Flatmates
by randomplotbunny
Summary: Jim owed John a favor, so when John was invalided out of the Army Jim saw his opportunity to repay the kind doctor for saving his life. He never thought it would become more than just a repayment of a debt owed, but it did. And now Sherlock has arrived on the scene and is trying to poach Johnny out from under him. That just will not do.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable.**

_John's squad had been on call that night, and it was a night to remember._

_Several dozen bombings had taken place in the space of just a few minutes, and utter chaos ruled the scene._

_Vehicles opened up like sardine cans, bodies twisted past recognition- it was a nightmare scene for even the most hardened war vet to experience._

_The wreckage was still burning when they arrived to help, and John was the first man to wade through the twisted metal and flames to try and approach the only, mostly intact, vehicle left._

_As soon as he touched the door it fell off. The driver was dead, but the passenger in the backseat was still breathing- if only in labored gasps._

_"I've got a live one here!" He shouted to his teammates as he climbed into the unstable wreck to aid the injured man._

_"Civilian, caucasian, mid to late twenties, low BP, labored breathing, unconscious." He called out as his team arrived._

_They managed to get the man out before his car too blew up. He was the only survivor that they found._

_It was hard work trying to save the man's life, but John never gave up. After three hours of surgery they had finally stabilized their mystery man and moved him to the recovery bay._

_He was too unstable to transport until he woke up so they had to keep him for a while, and as John's unit was coming off rotation he decided to keep an extra eye on the mystery man even though he wasn't a part of the support staff and therefore shouldn't be in the recovery ward except for emergencies._

_And so that was why John was present three days later when the man- no-one could find any information on him anywhere and so they still didn't have a name to call him by- finally opened his eyes._

_"Hello there, Sleeping Beauty, I'm glad to see you're finally awake." John said idly as he checked the patients vitals manually._

_"How..." The man began before his voice gave out. John helped him to take a drink of water before attempting to answer the half verbalized question._

_"How did you get here?" At the man's nod, John explained._

_"We were called out to a bombing site a few days ago, we found you and we brought you back here for emergency surgery. Now that you're awake you'll probably be transferred to a better hospital further behind enemy lines." John paused here, unable to decide if he should tell the just awoken man that he was the only survivor or not._

_"Who else?" Came the quiet query, firmly taking the choice from the doctor. With a sad smile and kind eyes firmly trained on the patient, John answered._

_"I'm sorry, but you were the only one we found alive." Instead of the expected shock from hearing such news, the man simply gave a satisfied smile and closed his eyes to sleep some more._

_It took two days to arrange nonemergency medical transport for the civilian, and in that time they had learned a bit more about the mystery man- though not nearly enough to satisfy the gossipy soldiers._

_His name was Jim, but he refused to give a surname to accompany his proper one- he said it wasn't of importance._

_He worked as a consultant, but refused to say anymore about his work than that._

_He was quite the charmer and had every member of his support staff wrapped around his finger by the end of his first day of consciousness, but he only had eyes for John- or at least that was the rumor that had started after Jim's fifth inquiry about the blonde doctor that he had first woken up to. He seemed quite put out when he realized that John wasn't his active-care doctor._

_The day of the transfer came, and with it a request from Jim to speak with John before he was loaded into the ambulance._

_Hurrying to see the patient he hadn't laid eyes on since the man had regained his senses, John wondered at what they could possibly have to say to each other._

_"Johnny!" Jim, who was still attached to heavy pain killers and so could be forgiven such excesses of emotion, called out in glee as he caught sight of the doctor._

_"Hello." John said as he sat on the edge of the narrow cot._

_"What? Am I not your 'Beauty' today?" Jim asked playfully, but before John could answer- he had hoped that Jim had still been too out of it to remember that embarrassing comment- the injured man put on a serious expression._

_"Dr. Watson, I just wanted to thank you personally for saving my life." Holding up a hand, Jim cut off John's attempts at modesty._

_"No, let me finish. I've talked to everyone who would talk about what happened that day, and they all say the same thing: you risked your own life to pull a half dead man from a burning wreck, you then slaved away for several hours in surgery on said man. I asked the doctor who's been keeping tabs on me just what my chances of survival really had been before you saved me. Do you know what he said?" When no response came he continued._

_"He said that, considering the extent of my injuries, I should have died- if not in the car then on the operating table. He said that no-one else could have saved my life but you." __John tried to protest, but Jim would have none of it._

_"You saved me, and only you could have done it. You are a miracle worker John, my personal miracle worker. I owe you my life, and that's a debt that I intend to someday pay." John began to protest, but just then the nurses showed up to cart Jim outside to the awaiting ambulance._

_"Someday, Johnny. Someday!" Jim called out to the befuddled doctor just before the doors shut and he was taken away._

Present day:

He had just been released from the hospital the day before after several grueling months of intense treatment and physical therapy, and was now sitting in a cafe, nursing a really bad cup of tea, and trying not to think of the sudden turn his life had taken.

He had been a great surgeon- one of the best that the Army had and they knew it- but now his hand trembled too much to even keep his cuppa steady long enough to finish a sip.

He'd had the body of a Greek God- or at least that's what all his previous lovers had told him- but now he had a limp and couldn't put strain on his left shoulder, he knew all his muscle tone would be long gone far too soon.

He'd had friends galore, now he only had Harry to talk to- she'd come by the hospital once, drunk, handed him her old phone and told him to keep in touch. She had been his only visitor since his return to England.

Downing the last of his now cold tea, John decided that he couldn't put off returning to the depressing flat that Ella had found for him. And that was another thing about his life that he hated at the moment: Ella.

She was a good enough therapist, and if he were some idiot civilian then he would find her to be a pleasant enough confidant; but he wasn't and he didn't and she just didn't seem to get that.

He is- was- a soldier. He had looked men dead in the eye and shot them.

He was- is- a doctor. He had taken the men he had shot and stitched them up again with nothing more than a spool of wire and a fishing hook- you sometimes simply had to make do on the front lines with anything you had on hand.

He understood that he had problems, he'd be an idiot not to, but he just couldn't understand how this soft, pressed-suit, never been in a fire-fight, probably thought being late for a manicure was a life-crisis woman was supposed to help him.

Taking a deep breath, and dispelling the line of thought that had distracted him there for a moment, John began to stand to leave.

A hand- thankfully on his right shoulder- gently pushed him back down.

"You're not leaving yet, are you Johnny?" Repressing the urge to grab for his gun at the surprise- it was still back at his flat anyway- John took a moment to look over the suit wearing man that had just taken the seat across from him, trying to place where he'd seem that face at before.

It suddenly clicked.

"Jim?" The brunette's eyes lit up at being remembered.

"So you remember me! Do you also remember what I promised you?" John gave a short nod.

"You said you wanted to repay a perceived debt that you owed me, but that really isn't necessary." His protests were waved off.

"Nonsense. If I think it's necessary then it is necessary." Realizing that he was slowly losing the argument, and not really seeing a point in having one in the first place, John decided to just see what this man- whom he hadn't seen in years- wanted.

"Well, let's start with a new place for you to live. We can see what else needs doing after that." Was the immediate reply.

'Just what have I gotten myself mixed up in?' John thought, and immediately followed it up with:

'And who exactly is this 'Jim' anyway?'


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: Sorry for the delay in updating, real life got in the way. _

_For those of you who got into this story when it was rated 'T' I just want to warn you that I've changed the rating to 'M'. I'm not even sure how I made that mistake in the first place._

**Disclaimer: If I owned anything here then my pockets would be lined with gold, but since they're lined with lint instead then you can tell that none of it belongs to me.**

It had been six months since the incident with the cabby and his acquisition of the name 'Moriarty' and he finally had a break in the case.

After six months of associating with the worst scum London had to offer- murders, human traffickers, government officials, his brother- Sherlock finally had not only a full name and tittle to go by but an address as well.

Jim Moriarty, World's only Consulting Criminal, was going to get a visit from the World's only Consulting Detective.

This would be a meeting of epic proportions.

The house itself was fairly unremarkable, as was the street it was located on, but that just made it all the more perfect of a hiding spot.

Giving the building a once over in the late afternoon sun he concluded that it was empty and that now would be a perfect time to make his first foray into enemy territory.

Walking casually to the back entrance- it would look less suspicious than if he tried to skulk about(an amateurish maneuver that he refused to take part in)- he disconnected the security system and jimmied the kitchen door open.

Stepping inside he immediately found that the house wasn't as empty as it had seemed.

The man was short, and blonde, and seemed to have a horrible attraction to frumpy jumpers; and was surprisingly steady while holding a gun pointed straight at Sherlock's forehead.

What was even more shocking than walking into(alright, breaking into) an occupied house and coming face-to-face with a gun wielding ex-army doctor- he had deduced as much in the first few seconds of spotting the man, as well as the fact that the man obviously lived here, worked in an A&E and had recently started working the night shift in the last week- was when the short man reset his safety and put the weapon back in its holster.

"Be thankful Jim told me you'd be showing up and breaking in at some point this week, Mr. Holmes, or else you'd have a hole in your head at the moment. Tea?" Caught off guard by the unexpected question, Sherlock simply gaped- though he would adamantly deny it at any given chance- and watched as the older man began puttering around the kitchen.

"Well close the door and come inside. Jim isn't here right now, but he should be back before I head off for shift if you want to wait. He said to make you feel welcome, though he didn't say why, and I can't do that if you're standing in the doorway." Belatedly closing the door, Sherlock finally moved fully into the modern style kitchen and took a seat at the bar-top island counter.

"Who..." He forcibly had to fight back a blush as he stammered over his question- he hadn't been this blind-sided by a person since the last he'd been a child!

Thankfully the blond doctor didn't seem to notice his floundering and simply answered the unfinished question.

"Oh! I'm sorry. I completely forgot to introduce myself. John Watson." Sherlock took the offered hand and gave it a shake over the expanse of the narrow kitchen island.

"Sherlock Holmes." John gave an amused snort before trying to cover it up with a small cough while giving Sherlock an apologetic look.

"Sorry. It's just that when Jim first told me your name I thought he was making a joke." John looked properly contrite and Sherlock was surprised to see that the man actually meant what he was saying.

Just who was this man and why was he living in the same house as a World Class Criminal Mastermind?

JMJWJMJWJMJWJMJWJMJWJMJWJMJW

Jim was lounging in one of his many offices while watching the live feed from one of his hidden cameras in his kitchen as Sherlock tried- and failed- to find his voice and make conversation with John.

He would be finding it really funny- and would at a later date when he wasn't as distracted- if he wasn't busy seething.

And it wasn't anyone he could punish he was seething at, oh no. He was angry with himself.

It wasn't until he saw them together that he realized that the possibility of Sherlock taking John away from him- a reasonably small percentage, only about a ten percent, but it felt like a far too big number now- was a possibility that he couldn't live with.

And he was the one that had orchestrated their meeting in the first place!

If he hadn't placed well rehearsed words into reasonably reliable mouths then Sherlock would still be chasing a ghost instead of having tea with his Johnny.

And they were laughing now too!

It was an insufferable situation. And the fact that he had no-one but himself to blame just made it all the worse.

Trying to distract himself from the events on the monitor- I said be nice to him, John, not become his best friend!- Jim cast his mind back over the past eight months and tried to pinpoint the moment when he had become so captivated by the doctor.

With a groan he realized that he should have suspected something was up when he had brought John to his main residence to stay instead of giving the man one of his dozen or so safe-houses.

And then there was that incident that preceded John's finding out about his chosen profession...

_Jim had raced into the kitchen, gun in hand, when the noise had finally penetrated to him in his office. He came to a full stop when he saw what had caused such a ruckus._

_John was standing in the middle of the room, every surface covered in a splash of blood, looking every bit the dangerous man he hid under his fluffy jumpers and holding a pairing knife in one hand as he looked over the two cooling corpses on the floor._

_When Jim entered the room cold eyes that could freeze even his dead soul locked onto his own._

_"Jim, just why would a couple of assassins be after you?" Letting a little smile grace his face- and keeping a close eye on the small knife that John still held(he had already proved to be very adept at using it to great advantage if the fact that he was able to create such a mess as this from two heavily armed and armored hit-men with it was any indication)- Jim tried to make light of the situation._

_"Maybe they just don't like my dress sense?" John barely flickered an eyelid but Jim knew that jokes would no longer be tolerated until the soldier was satisfied._

_"Fine. They were probably hired by one of my rivals, or one of my clients- in my line of work it can sometimes be hard to tell the difference." Expecting questions about what line of work he was in that would require assassination attempts be taken in stride, or even just a full explosion once John had connected all the dots himself- he really was quite intelligent when he tried- Jim got an unexpected but pleasant surprise instead._

_"Okay then. I'll make us some tea while you call someone to come clean this up." John said as he gestured to the two, almost forgotten, bodies on the floor. He then rounded the kitchen island and placed his bloodied weapon in the sink before washing his hands and filling the kettle._

_All the while Jim just stared at John's back, unbelieving of what he had just heard._

_"John, aren't you even a little bit curious..." He cut himself off as John turned to look at him with one of those half smiles that said that he knew something that the other person didn't._

_"I already knew you were a criminal, Jim, it was kind of obvious after I moved in here with you. Besides, everyone at the base kind of figured that you had to be one after the way you vanished from the all our records once you left. Well, either that or you were government, but that theory never really felt right considering your personality." Taking the offered mug of fresh tea in hand, Jim followed John into the sitting room in a daze._

_No-one had ever figured him out without him realizing before._

_"Jim?" Turning back to look at John, who had taken the time that Jim had been lost in thought to change out of his blood stained clothes and into a fresh set, Jim raised an eyebrow in silent question; earning him an amused smirk from the shorter man._

_"The clean up crew? Shouldn't you call them in? I would rather not have to walk around a couple of dead assassins whenever I go to make myself a cuppa." While fumbling for his phone all Jim could think of was how surprising John was still turning out to be- and after a full month of living together too!_

Giving a sigh- he really should have realized just how hard he had fallen for the doctor before now- Jim turned his eyes back to the monitor in time to see Sherlock taking his leave of John.

Gritting his teeth- That bastard!- Jim thought up several ways to break every bone in the Consulting git's body.

John was his! That bloody bastard could find his own doctor! John was his!

John may have missed the parting once over that Sherlock had given him before leaving but Jim hadn't. And he would make the man pay for it too!

Taking a deep breath to calm himself- he couldn't really afford to rile Mycroft up at the moment by out-and-out mutilating his baby brother(no matter how much the bastard deserved it)- he refocused on a more important issue: getting John-I'm not gay!-Watson to agree to a relationship with him.

Deciding that the direct approach would be best- John really didn't like it when he tried manipulating him- he pulled out his phone and composed a text.

Bracing himself for an uphill battle- John could be a really stubborn man when he wanted to be- but determined to win the doctor over, Jim sent his message.

_Would you like to have dinner tomorrow night? JM _There, he had taken the first step.

The reply was almost immediate.

_I like to have dinner every night. :-) JW _Jim couldn't help but smirk at the cheeky answer even as he composed his next message.

_No. I meant dinner with me. JM _His noticed his hands shaking slightly as he sent the text and he clamped down hard on the emotion that was causing it.

He was not nervous damn it!

_As in a date? JW_

_Yes. JM_

_Then yes. JW _Jim had to reread the text several times before it fully sunk in, and when it did he felt like swooning.

_Text me the time and place and I'll be there. And Jim... JW_

_Yes? JM _Bracing himself anew for whatever new surprise that John wanted to throw at him, Jim hit send and waited for the reply. He didn't have long to wait.

_Thank you for finally getting your head out of your arse and asking. I didn't think I could take another eight months of dancing around each other. JW _

Jim's laughter rung out from his office and into the ears of several of his employees that hurried to get out of range as quickly as possible. Nothing good ever came when the boss was laughing.


End file.
